Category Archives: Chumash

    The Torah’s sublime challenge to the Jewish people – Kedoshim tihiyu, “be holy,” – is a remarkable demand, compounded by the fact that the Torah does not give us any overt guidelines as to how a person becomes holy. We have some clues; Rashi comments that holiness is a byproduct of abstention from immorality and sin. But that is still not a definition. It is certainly possible for a person to abstain from immorality and sin and not be holy. So what is it that we are being asked – and clearly something at the very essence of Jewish life?

      The injunction “Be holy,” for all its inscrutability, demands one thing of us that is in very short supply today, and at the heart of the moral malaise in society, the meanderings of our youth and to some extent all of us, and much of the discontent we feel: the obligation to create and nurture an inner world, an Olam Hapenimi, where the soul is really expressed and our values are located – the point of connection between the human being and G-d. For much of society today, Jewish and non-Jewish, the inner world is dormant, or worse, dead, and we have to revive it.

     What does it mean to lack an inner world? Take the Secret Service scandal, for instance. The problem was not their desire to expand the definition of “Service,” but their lack of understanding of “Secret,” the first word of their agency. This, and the rest of the shenanigans across the country, is a product of what Dan Henninger (WSJ) labeled our “Age of Indiscretion.” People are indiscreet not only in the sense that they don’t cover their tracks well, but rather that many people today choose to live their lives on public display. Many feel no need to cover their tracks, because their self-esteem is dependent on their public lives – on people reading about them and hearing about them, and knowing their every inconsequential thought and action.

    This refers not only to celebrities but to all of us and our children. It is easy to blame the technology, and undoubtedly technology has enabled greater access to private places than ever before. But technology is a tool – it’s morally neutral – and the limits and effects of the technology are choices that we make. Personally, I think that Facebook and its offshoots are some of the most harmful phenomena in our world today, not that my disapproval will cause them to lose a nickel off their impending IPO. Facebook and friends breed indiscretion, induces bad behavior, propagates superficial and artificial relationships – and, worst of all, they rob people of their inner world, their inner sanctum of thoughts, feelings, emotions – of the capacity to think, to be private, to look before you leap, to be a real person, and especially to connect to G-d.

     Do we wonder why davening is so difficult – for all of us, but especially for young people? Because we have no inner worlds. Kavana (concentration, focus, intention) is all about an inner world, and without cultivating an inner world, Kavana is impossible. Without an inner world, davening becomes all about “saying words,” and “saying words” will have a diminishing impact on people over time, especially saying the same words again and again. That is why people get easily distracted in prayer, seek comfort in inane conversation, and simply congregate in the halls. There are no “actions” in prayer, nothing to post about or tweet about; it is function of our inner world, and so it is rapidly being lost. Too often, our outside shakes, while our inside is inert.

      In another realm, what is tzniut, in a modern term, but discretion – judgment, reticence, the yearning to keep private what is private. Tzniut recognizes the dignity of every person; it is the veneer that shields our inner world, our holy of holies, from the prying world. So tzniut can nurture a real relationship of real people – i.e., people who relate and interact appropriately, not through texts and emails, but through actual conversation, not with flamboyance or braggadocio, but with humility. The extent to which people choose to communicate indirectly, through technology, and thereby avoid human contact, is astonishing, and debilitating to the nurturing of real human relationships.

      And what a disease is a lack of tzniut – indiscretion – whether it is found in adults who act like children and broadcast it, or in young people who know no limits and bare their deepest secrets (and more) to a world of strangers, or, for that matter, in a president who can’t stop using the word “I” in boasting about his accomplishments but never in acknowledging his failures. President Obama in that sense is quite representative of his generation. President Bush the First had an aversion to using the first-person pronoun, having been whacked at his home dinner table as a child every time he started a sentence with “I.” President Reagan recognized that there is no limit to what can be accomplished as long as no attention is paid to who gets the credit. And perhaps the best example of the ethos of a prior generation was President Kennedy who, after accepting full responsibility for the Bay of Pigs fiasco, stated that “success has many fathers, and failure is an orphan.” These days, success has only one author, and failure is a team effort, of just the previous guy’s fault.

      It is the presidency as reality TV, where only appearances count.

      Rashi continues that “wherever you find boundaries against indecency, you find holiness.” I.e., wherever you find boundaries, period, you will find holiness, maturity, and responsibility. And wherever there are no boundaries, human beings can descend to great depths.

     The Rambam wrote (Shoresh 4, Sefer HaMitzvot) that “Be holy” is not one of the 613 commandments, because we don’t count the “commandments that subsume the entire Torah.”  “Be holy” is not something to do, but something to be. It is that something that defines our lives as individuals, separates us from the nations, and is the hallmark of our people – to build an inner world that can connect directly to G-d. It is that uniqueness that can fortify our lives and give it depth and substance, as assuredly as it will render us worthy of the rebuilt Holy Temple, speedily and in our days.

The YU Beacon, a relatively obscure literary journal, earned itself some free publicity by publishing an article last week about a nocturnal tryst between a Stern College student and her boyfriend in a hotel room, after which she feels a deep sense of shame when she realizes that he doesn’t love her and just used her. It’s unclear whether it was fictional or non-fictional, an actual event or wishful thinking. But the scandal made national news, especially when the student council stripped the Beacon of its funding, if you call $500 a semester funding or money to offset the cost of Diet Cokes and Twizzlers consumed while assembling the journal.

But now they’ve gone too far. This week, they published an account of a Jewish leader, righteous and decent but grieving over some family tragedies, who catches the eye of a courtesan at the crossroads and hires her services. When he unable to pay cash up front, the wench takes some of his property as a pledge and then disappears. But at the end of the story, the nobleman saves her from certain death by owning up to his moment of weakness.  Another sordid tale ostensibly with a moral message…

Wait, that wasn’t the Beacon – that was the Torah in Parshat Vayeishev and the episode of Yehuda and Tamar! And the light of the Messiah entered the world.

So what do we make of these stories? The media focused on its obsession – freedom of the press and censorship – and whether Modern Orthodoxy is too modern – when, to me, the real story was elsewhere. How do we discuss sensitive, delicate, even prurient matters? In fourth grade, we just skipped over the story of Yehuda and Tamar; that’s one approach. It doesn’t work well. How can you transmit values when the subject matter, or the application of those values, are taboo, and unmentionable? Granted, despite the anonymous author’s best efforts, the average commercial on television is more risqué and suggestive than this short story; and granted, I can see why the “Yeshiva” side of the YU ledger was offended.

But there is, unfortunately, a seamy corner of the Jewish world that we would do well not pretending that it does not exist. It exists – it exists because the culture is that decadent, and because young people looking for love, attention and respect often seek it in the wrong places and in the wrong activities – and they wind up without love or respect, although they do capture the attention, temporarily at least, of the exploiters and predators.

It exists in our colleges – whether YU or Stern and certainly in secular colleges – and it exists in the holy Yeshivos where only men learn, and where we presume, falsely, that they are shielded from the world’s tawdriness. They are, for the most part, but not entirely, human beings being human beings. It exists in our high schools – with young men and women pretending they are adults having real relationships, and even teachers, administrators, and Rebbeim acting inappropriately and sometimes criminally. It exists in the self-styled holiest neighborhoods of Lakewood and Borough Park, and it exists in the self-styled modern, sophisticated neighborhoods like Teaneck and the Five Towns. We usually are forced to deal with it when we hear of arrests for abuse and molestation – dozens in certain communities in recent years – and when we learn that some of our teens and young adults have lost all sense of boundaries and propriety. We ignore it at our peril.

We ignore it because we are uncomfortable talking about it. We would rather skip this story of Yehuda and Tamar.  We would rather believe that our children going off to high school and college are as pure and naïve and darling as they were at their Bar/Bat Mitzvot. We would rather that the Messiah descends from Heaven in a chariot than have him born as a result of this dissolute rendezvous.

The Torah conceals little about human life from us – and we are forced to reckon with Lot and his daughters, Yehuda and Tamar, Zimri and Cozbi, and later with King David and Bat Sheva and a host of other stories. I too was scandalized, until I actually saw the story – an effective if contrived way to raise a pressing social issue with a challenge at the beginning and a lesson at the end. “How Do I Begin To Explain This?,” the title, introduces the anticipation and the excitement – but the story ends with the ill-disguised indifference felt by the man towards his trophy-person and the self-loathing of the women – now forced to do the “walk of shame” for selling herself so cheaply, ‘a “stupid mistake.” As Rav Kahana said in the Gemara in a not-unrelated context: “this too is Torah and I have to learn it” (Berachot 62a).

Ultimately, the problem rests not in censorship or permissiveness, but in failures of education and parenting – a failure to transmit our values and to convey our way of grappling with desire and gratification. We have to overcome the fear of discussing those very issues that can be the most troublesome but in the long term the most spiritually rewarding. It is only the areas in which we struggle that true spiritual greatness emerges.

If it causes one woman to retain her dignity and say “no,” the article was worth it. If the discussions of the seamier side of Jewish life cause even one young victim of abuse to turn to his/her parents and then immediately to the police, then the discussions were worth it. And if we debate amongst ourselves the propriety of the Torah’s inclusion of the story of Yehuda and Tamar, then we will not only fail to understand how the moral greatness of Yehuda and the persistence of Tamar were indispensable for the destiny of Israel – we will also not  perceive how amid all the tumult and sadness and recriminations surrounding the event, “G-d was busy as well creating the light of the King Messiah” (Breisheet Rabba 85:1), that will soon illuminate all of mankind.

(This was originally published as an Op-Ed in the Jewish Press, November 11, 2011.)

It is difficult to remember the last time that the United States was wracked with such dissension, discontent, protests, and economic hardship. From my vantage point, “Occupy Wall Street” has been primarily a source of comic relief – the participants, their complaints, their solutions, and their antics – except for the sporadic violence, and the loss of job and business in lower Manhattan caused by the unwillingness of sane people to traverse that area under siege. There are many different forces at play in these nationwide protests,
most without any clue as to how to improve their personal financial situations
or the national economy. Having occupied Wall Street, the occupiers do not seem to know what they want to do with it.

But there is discontent among the wealthy as well, who are being demonized for the most crass political purposes and who have lost much of their wealth in the last few years (from 2007 to 2009, there was a 40% drop in the number of millionaires filing federal tax returns, from 392,000 to 233,000), and among the middle class, who have seen their assets diminished, and found near-insurmountable obstacles to their pursuit of the American dream. Everyone is unhappy.
And the more government meddles in our lives, the worse and less free
our lives become. All this discontent is the fruit of the poisonous tree of
big, intrusive government trying to run every aspect of our lives – and failing
at all of it: telling us what we can eat, what we can drive, what types of
bulbs we can use, how much water the shower nozzle can dispense, how high our fences can be, how many miles per gallon our cars should provide, what types of medical procedures we should or should not have, etc. There are many who expect and want government to satisfy their every desire and care for their every need – to be given a job, a home, health care, retirement pay, and a host of other entitlements. I want none of that. I just want to be left alone.

America was founded on the premise of the right of the individual to
pursue happiness as he sees fit – as long as his pursuit does not encroach on
the rights of others. So a federal government should provide for the common
defense against external enemies, enforce contracts so the commercial system
remains viable, and build interstate roads and highways. Beyond that, I
struggle to find where a federal government is useful or effective, and I
resent that the fruit of my labor is confiscated to pay for useless, frivolous,
unneeded and unwarranted boondoggles. I just want to be left alone.

Consider how far we have traveled. In 1887, Texas was stricken by a
drought (just like this past year). Congress appropriated $10,000 to purchase
seed grain for the suffering farmers there. President Grover Cleveland (the
only president born in New Jersey) vetoed the bill, saying: “I can find no warrant for such an appropriation in the Constitution, and I do not believe that the power and duty of the general government ought to be extended to the relief of individual suffering which is in no manner properly related to the public service or benefit. … The friendliness and charity of our countrymen can always be relied upon to relieve their fellow-citizens in misfortune. Federal aid in such cases encourages the expectation of paternal care on the part of the government and weakens the sturdiness of our national character, while it prevents the indulgence among our people of that kindly sentiment and conduct which strengthens the bonds of a common brotherhood.”

“The lessons of paternalism ought to be unlearned and the better lesson
taught that while the people should patriotically and cheerfully support their
Government its functions do not include the support of the people.”

     Notwithstanding that those sentiments (and undoubtedly other reasons as
well) led to Cleveland’s defeat in 1888 – he was re-elected four years later –
those lessons of the dangers of “paternalism” need to be re-learned and
re-internalized. Part of America’s greatness in the 20^th century was
built on the labor of millions of immigrants – including more than two million
Jews – who arrived on these shores and looked not to government for a handout but to their relatives, neighbors, and co-religionists for temporary assistance until they could support themselves by the sweat of their brow. Hard work, self-sacrifice, material deprivation and personal responsibility were the norms of life. It was expected that people would succeed or fail on their own, and therefore everyone had an interest in succeeding. There was no governmental safety net, and the safety net that did exist for the elderly and infirm was usually provided by family and religious institutions.

The Constitution does not allow government to confiscate money from the productive and distribute it to the unproductive or the clueless – whether the clueless are reckless individuals or reckless corporations. But today, that is the primary function of government, and so 49% of Americans receive some form of government assistance and wayward, mismanaged corporations are bailed out to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars rather than allow the market to take its natural toll on unprofitable businesses. Blame Woodrow Wilson and Franklin Roosevelt, and then almost every president since then, who have all realized that there are electoral victories to be obtained by handing out money to as many groups and individuals as is feasible. And, frankly, blame the citizenry as well, people who are being weaned on getting something for nothing, and letting others work and prosper and then thinking that it is fair and just that their work product be redistributed to them. It was Thomas Jefferson who wrote that democracy fails the moment the majority realizes that it can vote itself money out of the treasury. We have arrived at that moment, and the national character, accustomed to handouts and bailouts, has been concomitantly weakened to its current flaccid state of disgruntlement and self-pity.

The two visions of America – the free enterprise state that allows the individual free choice in pursuit of his happiness vs. the nanny state that is paternalistic, intrusive and demanding – can easily be discerned by the one defining difference: the former sees each person as an individual (created in the divine image) and the latter sees man as simply part of a collective whose rights are drawn from the fact that he is part of a group but do not inhere in him. America and the free world used to celebrate the role of the individual – encouraging it, fostering it – because no individual prospers without also benefiting others. No individual can become wealthy unless he makes a product or provides a service that others want at a price they can afford. So, everyone benefits. Now, it is one size fits all – like the housing in socialist societies that all looks the same, and like the clothing in old Communist China where everyone dressed the same. No individuality is tolerated. Rights are awarded to some individuals, and denied to others, because they belong to a particular group – the very premise of affirmative action, for example.

Similarly, these attitudes engender the populist complaints about income inequality – the rich are too rich, and the poor are too poor. Why does the income gap, which so exercises the Occupy World Street crowd and other anarchists, bother anyone? If everyone has – or can have – then why be troubled by the success of some?       Indeed, a study not long ago showed that people are happier if they are earning $25,000 and their neighbor $50,000 – than if the sums are doubled and they earn $50,000 and their neighbors earn $100,000. Why? Although the income gap has widened, they too are earning more money?     For only one reason, that greases the wheels of much of the discontent in America and across the globe today: jealousy. What a deadly mida! Envy ruins lives, leaves people dejected and despondent, and is the cause of wars and much suffering.

Envy is the very  antithesis of Succot. Rav Dessler writes famously that Succot reflects bitul hayesh, the nullification of the material. Has anyone ever walked into someone’s Succa and said: “This is beautiful – I am so jealous, I wish I had a Succa like this!” Of course not. And why not? Because it is gone in a week, and is therefore defined as a temporary dwelling. But that is the point –
everything in this world is temporary, so why be jealous? Why covet what
someone else has?

The Gemara Avoda Zara 3a-b states that in the future the nations of the world will be tested with the mitzvah of Succot. The nations are easily inflamed, and much of what they accomplish is triggered by jealousy. So G-d burns the sun
on them as if it is the height of summer – the sun, which to us appears to be
the most permanent fixture of the physical world. And they kick their Succot on
the way out, as if to say, the only reality is the material world, of
substance, and mergers and acquisitions – so why waste time and energy on
anything that is temporary and cannot stoke our competitive juices like the
Succa?

If that regression will happen in the future, as the Gemara says, the good news is that that future is already here. And it is fostered by a heavy-handed government that speaks of charity and generosity as disguises for outright theft. Trillions of dollars spent in a war on poverty has created more poverty – not less. The poverty rate has increased since the war on poverty began, as well as fostered a cycle of multi-generational welfare dependency and a surfeit of broken homes.
For Jews, we perceive the material as temporary and tangential to life, and
look to G-d as the only true source of our rights and values.     To us, life is blissful when, as in the time of King Shlomo, “Yehuda and Yisrael dwelled in security, each person beneath his vine and his fig tree”(I Melachim 5:5) – each person content, satisfied and comfortable with himself and his neighbors, free of the burdens of jealousy and greed.

It is hard for a thinking Jew to generate much sympathy for the “demonize the rich” populism, for a number of reasons, but especially because the Torah seems to like the rich (the Torah likes the poor too). It is one of the defining, oft-repeated themes of Avraham’s life – and maybe a great nisayon as well. The Torah sees fit to emphasize that Avraham does not only leave Charan with his wife and nephew, but also “with all the wealth they had amassed.” And he does well in Egypt – “laden, very heavy, with cattle, silver and gold,” Strange words – kaved me’od, not that he was wealthy, ashir, but kaved, heavy. Wealth can be a burden as well.

And Avraham rejects the gifts of the king of Sodom, so “you shouldn’t say, ‘I made Avraham rich.’” And the Torah underscores that both Yitzchak and Yaakov (and Moshe) were wealthy, all of which gave them credibility with their contemporaries. In the most far-reaching comment, Avraham is told that his descendants would be enslaved in a land not theirs for 400 years, “after which they will leave with great wealth.” But why is this important ? And why does the Torah speak of wealth of our ancestors again and again?

Avraham’s wealth was purposeful. It was designed to bring him respect from his peers, and enable him to better promote his divine message. He was completely focused on advancing Hashem’s agenda, and on realizing spiritual goals. Why should that be demonized? We need not – and should not – succumb to materialistic excess. It is unnecessary, beneath our dignity, and the result of environmental influences that we should strive to keep out of our lives. We know how to live – but we also know how to use our money to build Torah and shuls and yeshivot and mikvaot. We know how to help the indigent, and we know how to support Israel.

Wealth is a challenge but it need not be a curse, or somehow ignominious as today’s malcontents would want us to believe. Wealth is a “blessing from Hashem” (Mishlei 10:22), so it is to be used judiciously, wisely and productively. We don’t always succeed, but we do succeed much more than people tend to think. Wealth is therefore a great test, and our use of our bounty is usually a very keen indicator of our moral aspirations and the state of our character. Prioritizing Torah education and the performance of Mitzvot is obviously a more effective and rewarding use of our bounty than is the relentless pursuit of more stuff – houses, cars, fancy gadgets and clothing, and extravagant affairs.

That is why none of the complaints and antics of these American protesters resonate with me. They choose not to see the hard work, the sacrifices, the risks and even the re-distribution wrought by the wealthy consumer (a person who buys a private jet supports a number of people who built that private jet). All they see is mass consumption, all they see is materialistic excess – and they just want it for themselves, without having to work for it. They should learn the lesson of Succot, and we should strive to embody the values and vision of the Avot.

If we choose poorly, then wealth can corrupt us as well, and we can go down the path of Lot, Avraham’s neer-do-well nephew, who was literally destroyed by his worldly ambitions. But if we choose more wisely, then the legacy of the Avot is ours, and our example to the rest of society as to the divine values of personal
responsibility, individual morality, the appropriate utilization of resources
and generosity can be profound. It was for that reason that G-d chose Avraham,
and blessed his offspring with that eternal mandate to the nations of the
world.

The Talmud (Sotah 2a) asks: “why are the tractates of Sotah and Nazir juxtaposed? To teach us that one who sees the Sotah in her degradation should take a vow of abstinence from wine.” The Nazir is the individual, man or woman, who strives to elevate his/her spiritual level by accepting additional restrictions, such as abstention from wine. The Sotah is the married woman who improperly secludes herself with another man, is suspected of adultery, and undergoes a ritual ordeal in the Bet HaMikdash that adjudicates her guilt or innocence.

“One who sees the Sotah in her degradation should take a vow of abstinence from wine.” But why? Perhaps the Sotah herself is the one who should lay off the booze, not the innocent onlooker.

Rav Moshe Zvi Neria, the great thinker and founder of Bnai Akiva, commented that “seeing” here is not an idle or neutral pursuit, but “seeing” in the sense of
understanding. What must be understood ?

The Torah exists in two different realms – the normal and the abnormal. In the conventional world, our lives are bounded by mitzvot and service of G-d. Each field of endeavor, each human activity, and each desire is moderated and sanctified. These commandments – most of them , in fact – regulate a normal life and straighten out our paths.

But there is another realm in which Torah exists as well – the abnormal, typified by the Sotah. She represents the collapse of the Jewish family; even if innocent of adultery, she is still guilty of seclusion. A person who sees these deviations must immediately take corrective measures, otherwise he runs the great risk of thinking that the abnormal is normal, that everyone is doing it, or that somehow he is missing out on all the fun.

It is hard to escape the tawdriness and degradation of the modern world. Each day brings new “celebrities” in this genre. One day it is John Edwards, whose despicability is reaching its inevitable denouement in a courtroom. Another, it is Anthony Weiner, whose contrition today seems on par with his haughtiness on all other days. (Strange: Republican Congressman Chris Lee (NY-26) did  something similar but less salacious and didn’t lie about it but still resigned almost immediately. Are the moral rules different for Democrats ?) Not long ago, it was Elliot Spitzer, and even more recently Dominique Strauss-Kahn, Arnold
Schwarzenegger, et al.

We are forced to endure what seems like an avalanche of decadence, and we delude ourselves into thinking that it does not affect us. It does. How? We start to think that it is normal – sad, tragic, depraved – but normal. Everyone is doing it. “One who sees the Sotah in her degradation” must do something, lest he conclude it is not degraded at all, but rather part of life. Everyone is doing it.

But everyone is not doing it. Most marriages do not end in divorce, and most spouses do not cheat on each other, and most people do not murder or steal, and most of our children do not go off the derech. It only seems that way, because our world is filled with the ubiquitous images of the violators, but they are not typical at all. They are deviants. They are exceptions to the norm.

“One who sees the Sotah in her degradation should take a vow of abstinence from wine.” The onlookers, the passersby – they are the ones in danger of being seduced by the existence of the Sotah into thinking that the world is degenerate and corrupt while in reality it is mostly good and decent.

“Abstaining from wine” means that a person must temporarily deprive himself of the means of obscuring his moral sense, which alcohol will do in sufficient quantity. He has to counterbalance what he sees so it does not distort his world view. How that is to be done is not as simple as saying “get rid of the television.” That might help, but is still not enough. There is radio, there are newspapers,
there is the public domain. Sometimes it is difficult to walk down the street
these days without encountering a full range of Sotah-wannabes.

The least we can do – and the first step we must take as we observe the travails of Weiner, Edwards, and the rest is to realize that it is not normal, that it is atypical and disgraceful behavior, and that it is a moral offense, repugnant to our
sensibilities. If saying that certain conduct is “immoral” stamps us as judgmental, then so be it. Normal human beings make judgments all the time.

Where society is debauched, and too many are quick to rationalize misbehavior and trivialize iniquity, then we must go to the opposite extreme – for our own protection and to safeguard our own moral preserve. The Nazir and the Sotah are polar opposites – one takes on more prohibitions because the other observed too few. To uphold our moral standards in the face of unpopularity is a badge of honor, worthy of those who again preparing to receive the Torah as on the day it was given to us at Sinai.